Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

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Few Russian composers could resist setting verses by Alexander Pushkin, and his influence on the development of Russian music was indirectly as great as his influence on literature. This collection demonstrates the compelling power of the poet, an ...» More

'Savenko and Blok respond well to the texts of these songs, among them several rarities' (Gramophone)'An excellent follow-up to the successful first disc. Vassily Savenko is a very special singer' (Classic CD)» More

Last night was so bright, Last night the stars shone so brilliantly That looking at the hills and the dreaming forest, At the water reflecting the light of the heavens, I thought: how beautiful it is to live in this world.

Beautiful too are the vast and rolling steppes. Beautiful the oak grove in its robe of green; Beautiful is love, with its ever-fresh garland, And the constantly shining star of friendship, And the joy of radiant singing, and glory!

I looked at the heavens, the bright firmament; High, high it rose above the abyss; Lively stars danced in the fire … And a childlike wish came to me: I thought How much better it would be to live in that starry realm!

Nightingale, my nightingale, dear little woodland bird! You are a small bird and always sing three songs; I am a young man and I have three great sorrows. The first one is this: that I was married too young. This is the second: that my black horse is worn-out. And here is my third sorrow: I loved a beautiful girl but wicked people separated us. Dig me a grave in the wide-open fields, at my head plant red flowers, at my feet let there be a stream of pure water. When pretty girls pass by, they will weave wreaths, when old people pass by, they can refresh themselves.

Nightingale, my nightingale, Dear little woodland bird! You are a small bird And always sing three songs; I am a young man And I have three great sorrows. The first one is this: That I was married too young. This is the second: That my black horse is worn-out. And here is my third sorrow: I loved a beautiful girl But wicked people separated us. Dig me a grave In the wide-open fields, At my head Plant red flowers, At my feet let there be A stream of pure water. When pretty girls pass by, They will weave wreaths, When old people pass by, They can refresh themselves.